


Perennial

by Syls Darkplace (sylsdarkplace)



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Fantasy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:49:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26647048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sylsdarkplace/pseuds/Syls%20Darkplace
Summary: Jared is a young real estate agent working for a rich land developer. Jensen doesn’t want to sell his farm.
Relationships: Jensen Ackles/Jared Padalecki
Comments: 55
Kudos: 164





	Perennial

**Author's Note:**

> The longer I live in Appalachia the more I realize that these ancient mountains harbor magic. Sometimes dark magic. This fic is not of the dark variety, but I won’t rule it out in the future. At the end I’ve listed some (very remotely) influential sources for this fic that I would recommend checking out.
> 
> Russian translation https://archiveofourown.org/works/27872818

  
Jared braced himself as his pickup bounced over a rut in the road. Blacktop had dwindled to gravel about a mile back. He was grateful for 4-wheel drive and off-road tires on what had become hard packed dirt and rock. The slow going allowed him time to appreciate the dogwood blossoms and the pink of redbud trees that punctuated the bright green foliage all around.  
  
He suspected his client had sent him on a wild goose chase up the mountain in search of a property owner. Jared would have said so too, but real estate sales were few and far between what with the economy what it was, and his client was a developer with more money than sense. Anyway, he had nothing better to do that morning.  
  
There was a break in the foliage that had Jared hitting the brakes. The truck jerked to halt. Off to his left, a view of the valley was revealed through a break in the trees – the wide blue sky, wooded hills, river twisting along off into the distance. His little town was just a cluster of roofs far below.  
  
He could understand now why his client envisioned the mountain as a prime spot for a resort. _It sure is pretty,_ he thought. Some might say it was breathtaking, but what took Jared’s breath away was the view just outside the truck – the sheer drop down a good 200 feet just inches from the driver’s side tires. He had climbed much higher than he’d realized. He eased the truck back into motion and hugged the side of the hill.  
  
He still couldn’t imagine that anyone lived up there, not that folks didn’t live in some remote hollers and ridges. He’d heard stories of barely passable roads, trailers perched on hillsides, stills and marijuana patches -- places that townies like him didn’t go. Places where you’d be met by the business end of a rifle. He chewed his lip.  
  
The road curved to the right and the grade decreased as the road continued along a rock bench. The canopy overhead was high and thick. Sunlight filtered down in brilliant columns onto the verdant floor. He knew the valley must be somewhere to the left beyond the trees, but they were too thick to glimpse it. To his right, oak, beech, and walnut marched up the mountain.  
  
Had he not slowed the truck to creep over an old culvert that channeled a small creek, he might have missed the cabin on his left. It sat twenty or so feet from the edge of the road, and at first glance, it looked abandoned with its rusty tin roof and faded blue paint, but the underbrush was kept down all around, an old hound drowsed on the porch, and chickens pecked in the yard.  
  
He pulled the truck over along the fence and turned off the ignition. So this was it. With a deep breath, he opened the door and climbed out.  
  
“Hello the house!” he called.  
  
The cabin door opened, and a mutt shot out, charging the gate where Jared stood. Every inch of the animal was in motion from its bushy tail to its flashing teeth. Jared was a dog lover. He knew their tells pretty well, but he wasn’t sure if this was welcome or warning.  
  
“Shep!”  
  
The dog quieted and ran back to the porch where a boy in threadbare jeans and a white tank top stood with his hands in pockets.  
  
Jared put on his most disarming smile. “Hi! Good morning!”  
  
The boy was slender but well-muscled, with big eyes, a generous mouth, and hair of an undetermined color. He tipped his head to the side and quietly observed Jared for a moment before speaking. “Mornin’. You lost?”  
  
“No! No, um…” Jared felt heat rise in his cheeks. “My name is Jared Padalecki, and I‘m a real estate agent. Is this the Ackles place?”  
  
The boy just nodded.  
  
“Are your folks around?”  
  
“Over there.” The boy looked across the yard, but Jared saw no one.  
  
“I’m sorry?” he asked.  
  
The boy left the porch and walked barefoot down the path to the gate where Jared stood. He pointed across the yard to where a small cemetery lay beyond the fence.  
  
“There,” he said and looked up at Jared with big green eyes. He was older than Jared had thought -- 20 maybe. Freckles were sprinkled across his nose and cheeks.  
  
“I’m sorry …”  
  
“Jensen.” Lush lips formed the syllables.  
  
“Jensen,” Jared repeated the name as if each consonant and vowel was a sweet, juicy berry. His mouth watered.  
  
Jensen gazed up at him, lips parted and wide-eyed.  
  
Jared swallowed and blinked. “I … I, um, have a client who is interested in purchasing this property, your property?”  
  
Jensen cocked an eyebrow. “What have you brought me?”  
  
“What?”  
  
“You want something from me, but you’ve brought me nothing?”  
  
“Well no, that’s not … I’m just here to pass along my client’s offer.”  
  
Jensen took a step back. “When you return with a worthy gift, I’ll listen to your offer.” He turned and started back to the cabin.  
  
“Jensen, wait!”  
  
The only answer was the squeak and bang of the screen door closing.  
  
The hound dog, who hadn’t moved from his spot on the porch, put his head down and closed his eyes. Shep lifted his leg on the gate, and Jared jumped back to avoid the stream.  
  
“Damn it!” Jared muttered. Crows cawed from a nearby maple as if in laughter.

  
  
“Why the hell didn’t you just give him a twenty?” Mark Sheppard paced the floor in Jared’s office. It only took a few steps to reach one side of the room and then back to the other.  
  
“I don’t think that’s what he meant by a gift, Mr. Sheppard.” Jared had been so taken aback and confused by Jensen that he had done nothing for days. It wasn’t until Sheppard made a trip from New York that Jared had even spoken to the developer about it.  
  
“Of course, that’s what he meant.” Disgust dripped from every word. “’Worthy gift,’ tribute, bribe, call it what you like. You know how wily these infernal hillbillies can be.” Sheppard took out his wallet and drew a one hundred dollar bill from it. “Give him that and get me that land, boy.” He had tossed the money on Jared’s desk.  
  
So now, Jared’s truck was crawling back up the mountain. He drove with his left hand on the wheel and the right on a bakery box in the passenger’s seat. Hillbillies may in fact be wily, but Jensen wasn’t asking for money. Jared felt sure of that much. Of course, he hadn’t spent the full hundred, but much as he’d like to put it toward his utility bills, he’d put the change aside for future costs on the project.  
  
It had been a few weeks since Jared had been up the mountain, and the woods were even lusher. The white and pink blossoms had given way to a full canopy of leaves. Jared found Jensen working in his garden accompanied by an orange cat.  
  
Jensen wiped his palms on his jeans and came to the gate. He eyed the bakery box. “What’s this?” he asked.  
  
“A gift,” Jared answered with a smile. “I hope it is worthy.”  
  
Jensen’s pretty mouth curved into a slight smile, and he looked up through his lashes. “It smells sweet.”  
  
“It’s blackberry jam cake,” Jared said.  
  
Jensen unlatched the gate and held it open for Jared. “Come on then.”  
  
Shep trotted along beside them as Jared followed Jensen up the porch steps where the hound snoozed. The orange cat sat on the step.  
  
Jared stopped just inside the door and looked around. To the left was the kitchen where Jensen went to an old porcelain sink with a built-in drain board to wash his hands. Tomatoes were lined up on the window sill above the sink, and wildflowers were arranged in an old Mason jar.  
  
To Jared’s right was a sitting area with two worn arm chairs upholstered in burgundy velvet and a wood stove. At the back of the cabin, was an iron bedstead covered with a quilt. And through a doorway, he glimpsed a claw-foot tub.  
  
“You can set that down.” Jensen pointed at the table with a knife. “And cut.” He set two mismatched saucers and the knife on the table.  
  
As Jared cut and plated the cake, Jensen took a pitcher from the ancient Frigidaire and poured golden tea into mismatched tumblers.  
  
“Please.” Jensen motioned to a chair before sitting himself. “Thank you, for the cake.”  
  
“You’re welcome,” Jared said. Despite the moistness of the cake, Jared’s mouth was dry. He wondered when it would be appropriate to discuss Sheppard’s offer. He took a drink of tea. It was cool and minty and sweet.  
  
“This is delicious.”  
  
“Thank you. So’s the cake.”  
  
“Is it worthy?” Jared asked.  
  
Jensen nodded.  
  
“So.” Jared laid his fork down. “I’d like to tell you about my client’s offer.”  
  
Jensen didn’t object so he continued.  
  
"According to the deed,” Jared frowned, “which is confusing because … well, never mind … According to the deed, you have about a hundred acres here.”  
  
Jensen nodded. “Thereabouts.”  
  
“My client, Mr. Sheppard, is willing to give you $150,000 for it.”  
  
Jensen continued chewing his cake in a way that reminded Jared of a bunny eating lettuce.  
  
“No, thank you.” Jensen took a drink of tea.  
  
“Jensen.”  
  
“Yes?”  
  
“Do you have any idea how much money that is?”  
  
Jensen pressed the bottom of his fork against the saucer to pick up the remaining crumbs. “I’m sure it’s quite a lot.”  
  
“Yes! Yes, it is quite a lot. Imagine what you could do with it.” Jared had himself imagined moving out of his cramped apartment and into a house on a shady street. He wished he were sitting on 10 acres of real estate.  
  
Jensen stacked the saucers and rose from his chair. “I’m fine where I am.”  
  
“But you could buy more land, build a new cabin with a better roof, build a nicer chicken coop …”  
  
“I don’t want more land, my roof don’t leak, and my chickens are quite cosy,” Jensen said. He set the saucers and forks in the sink and closed the cake box.  
  
“But …”  
  
“Thank you for the cake, but I’m not interested in the offer,” Jensen said.  
  
“Please, think about it,” Jared said.  
  
Jensen pushed the screen door open, stepped onto the porch, and held the door for Jared. With a sigh, Jared followed him.  
  
Jensen folded his arms over his chest. “If I were to sell, what would you get out of it?”  
  
“Six percent,” Jared said.  
  
“And you need the money.”  
  
“Yes, of course,” Jared said. “This is my job and sales have been slow.”  
  
“I’m sorry, Jared.” He led Jared to the gate.  
  
“Just think about it, please. Let me tell my client you will think about it.”  
  
Jensen chuckled. “You can tell your client whatever you want.”

*****

  
  
Jared felt back in his stride after a good night’s sleep. Well, an adequate night’s sleep filled with odd dreams that he couldn’t quite remember. A run before work cleared his head though. He had thought a lot about the project as he ran, and he realized he had some questions that needed answers.  
  
He bounded up the steps to the county clerk’s office and swung the door open with a big smile.  
  
“Hey, Katie,” Jared said.  
  
“Jared.” A dark-haired woman looked up from her computer screen. Her eyes narrowed a little.  
  
“Hey, what’s that tone about? Am I not your favorite baby brother of an ex?” He had wondered why Kyle had broken it off with her and decided she was just too smart for him.  
  
“Yeah, yeah, and you being here always means work for me.” She crossed her arms.  
  
“Yeaaaah, about that …”  
  
“See, that’s what I mean.” She pushed her chair away from her desk and leaned back.  
  
“It’s about that Ackles deed up the mountain.” Katie had helped him find it a few weeks earlier.  
  
“What about it?”  
  
Jared pulled the deed out of the file folder. “It’s dated 1908.”  
  
“Okay.”  
  
“That’s not odd? It hasn’t changed owners since 1908? This Robert and Margaret Ackles can’t still be alive. In fact, I’ve been up there and the one guy living up there is definitely not a hundred and some years old.”  
  
“Jared.” Katie leaned her elbows on the desk. “You mostly work in or near town so maybe you don’t know. There are people in this county who come to town once a year – to pay their taxes. They don’t want the government in their business. If someone dies, the kids just keep paying the taxes and no one questions it.”  
  
“Are you kidding?”  
  
She just gave him a stare.  
  
“So you think that this guy’s grandparents and parents died and there was no probate?”  
  
“Probably.”  
  
“If that’s the case, does he even have any rights to the property?”  
  
“Sure, if he’s paying the taxes. The taxes are paid up so I assume he’s the one paying.”  
  
“But surely that could be contested.  
  
“Sure. If you want to put the guy off his land.”  
  
“Well, no, but it could be leverage. Can you check the records?”  
  
She sighed. “Not right now, but, yes, I will check the records.”  
  
“You are the best.”  
  
“So I have your vote in the next election?”  
  
“You know it!” He gave her wink.

*****

  
  
“He’s thinking about it,” Jared said into the office phone. He flipped a pencil into the air, and it stuck into the ceiling tile. “I know. I know, sir. I realize you want this to move along faster, but that’s just not how things work here.”  
  
Jared pulled the phone out from his ear, but could hear Sheppard perfectly.  
  
“Yes, time is money. No, sir, I’m not being impudent.” Jared sucked the last of the soda from his Wendy’s cup. “I’m just giving him little time to think about it. Okay. Okay. Two-hundred thousand. Yes, I’ll let you know.”  
  
He hung up the phone and groaned. He found little satisfaction in the forest of pencils above his head. Six percent on $200,000 was a downpayment on a house.  
  
Jared may have still been a bit of a rookie in the real estate business, but he’d been around long enough to have a sense of when people were holding out for more money and when they simply didn’t want to sell. Jensen was the latter, and Jared wasn’t sure how he could shift him to the former.  
  


  
  
By the time Jared brought his truck to a halt, Jensen was leaning on the gate. Jared swung the truck door open, and the oppressive heat of dog days engulfed him. Cicadas and other insects chirruped, buzzed, and whirred all around. Shep was lying on the porch with the hound and the orange cat. Even the chickens had sought out a cooler spot.  
  
Jensen squinted against the noonday sun. There were lines around his eyes that Jared didn’t recall.  
  
“I haven’t changed my mind,” Jensen said.  
  
“Ah well, I brought you a gift,” Jared said. He held up a sweaty gallon jug. “Sweet tea. I made it myself.”  
  
Jensen smiled. “Did you now? All right, come on.” He swung the gate open and led the way to the cabin.  
  
It was surprisingly cool inside. It took Jared’s eyes a moment to adjust to the dimmer light.  
  
“I was about to eat dinner,” Jensen said as he laid two plates on the table. “No doubt, you’re hungry.”  
  
“I could eat,” Jared said with a grin. He poured tea into the jars Jensen set out.  
  
Jensen laid quite a spread. There was fried rabbit, wild greens, fresh sliced tomato, cornbread with blackberry jam, green beans, and deviled eggs.  
  
“Mm, this is delicious,” Jared said. He was fond of a little salt on tomato. “Do you have some salt?”  
  
“No.” Jensen didn’t even look up.  
  
“I can bring you some.”  
  
Jensen scoffed. “What kind of gift is that?”  
  
“I just meant …”  
  
“No, thank you.” Jensen tore a bit of meat from the bone and licked his fingers.  
  
“Clean your plate and you get peach cobbler.”  
  
Jared grinned and dug in.  
  
“Did you even think about the offer?” he asked over pie and coffee.  
  
Jensen sighed. “Jared, there’s nothing to think about. This is my home.”  
  
“You love it that much?”  
  
“I do.”  
  
Jared nodded. “I’ve never had a home like that.”  
  
Jensen leaned his elbows on the table and cradled his coffee cup in his hands. “I’m sorry.”  
  
Jared shrugged. “It’s not bad or anything. Just, you know, ordinary.”  
  
Jensen’s brows arched, and Jared laughed.  
  
“Okay, maybe you don’t. I mean, it was a typical nuclear family – mom, dad, three kids and a dog, house in subdivision.”  
  
“Subdivision.”  
  
“Yeah, you know what that is?”  
  
Jensen nodded. “I don’t find them appealing.”  
  
“Right?”  
  
“And now? You have this real estate job and … a house? Girlfriend?” Jensen took a sip of coffee and watched Jared over the rim of his blue enamel cup.  
  
“No and no,” Jared admitted. “I have an apartment and no … I, um, I have other preferences.”  
  
“Do you? I thought as much.”  
  
“Did you? Why?”  
  
“Maybe, it’s the way you look at me.”

*****

  
  
The pillow was too close. Hot breath chuffed back into his face. The fabric was wet with drool. He turned his head and rubbed his eyes. It was so bright in the bedroom. Too bright. He fumbled for the clock. 9:54 a.m.  
  
“Shit!” He swung his long legs off his bed and headed for the shower. What the fuck? What the fuck? His head felt like he’d smoked all the weed, but he was pretty sure he hadn’t smoked any weed. Pretty sure. The previous night was not a blur, but a blank. Had he gone out with Chad and Mike last night? Could he have drank enough to black out? No, he was definitely maybe sure.  
  
He lathered sage and citrus shampoo into his hair and felt slightly revived. As he soaped his skin, his touch awakened sensations, sensitivities across his chest and back like dim memories of other hands. Arousal and release seemed inevitable, like he had time for that. He made time.  
  
With a towel around his waist, he went into the kitchen and opened the fridge. A big glass of iced tea would be amazing … except there wasn’t any. He moved things around to make sure the jug hadn’t gotten pushed to the back. He distinctly remembered making sweet tea. There was something, a shadow slipping along the edge of his mind. He had made tea. He had! If he had a roommate, he’d have someone to blame for it disappearing.  
  
He scrubbed his hands over his face. What a weird morning.  
  
“Fuck this,” he mumbled. “I have to get to work.”

*****

  
  
He was working on setting up an open house for the Cooper account when his office phone rang.  
  
“Padalecki Real Estate, how can I help you?”  
  
“Hey Jared, it’s Katie.”  
  
“Hey Katie, how’s it going? Looking to sell that sweet location location location cul-de-sac split level?”  
  
“Um, no.” She chuckled. “I was calling about the property taxes on the Ackles property. I just want to apologize. I know it’s been weeks…”  
  
“Ackles property?” He rubbed his forehead. What was wrong with his memory lately?  
  
“Yeah, you know, up the mountain?”  
  
“Um, sure sure.”  
  
“No luck, I’m afraid. The taxes are paid in cash.”  
  
“Okay, thanks, Katie.”  
  
“Sure, no problem. So you having any luck with the sale?”  
  
“I, um, no. No, I’m not.”  
  
“Sorry, Jared. Sucks to be you.”  
  
Jared laughed. “So true. Thanks again. I’ll take you to lunch.”  
  
“Yeah, right. Take care.”  
  
“You too.”  
  
Jared hung up and leaned back in his chair. Ackles property up the mountain? Wait, hadn’t he seen something with that name? He sat up and started shuffling through the piles on this desk, and there it was -- a folder with the name Ackles on it. He flipped through the pages. It was sort of familiar, yeah. It had been over a week since he’d talked to Mark Sheppard. He flipped through his planner and found the note to go back up and talk to Jensen. He remembered now planning to take sweet tea.  
  
“Holy fuck!” The missing tea. He was losing his mind.  
  
But why hadn’t Sheppard called. He must be spitting mad. Jared picked up the phone … and hung it up. He groaned and took a deep breath before picking it up and dialing the number.  
  
“Sheppard here.”  
  
“Mr. Sheppard, hi, it’s Jared Padalecki. I…”  
  
“Who?”  
  
“Jared Padalecki.” He could vaguely hear Sheppard talking to someone else. “In Elkville, Kentucky.”  
  
“Look, I don’t know who you are, Jared Padulski, or anyone in Bumfuck, Kentucky, but I’m a busy man. Call my assistant if you think you have business with me, all right? Cheers.”  
  
The line went dead and then dial tone came on. Jared just sat there for a moment with the phone in his hand. He hung it up.  
  
“What the fuck is happening?”  
  
His memories of Sheppard’s resort deal and the little farm with the pretty boy were like trying to grab minnows in a stream.

Shaking his head, he tossed the Ackles file into the trash.

*****

Jared had just closed on the second house in two weeks when his mother called.  
  
“Sunday is your brother’s birthday. You are coming to the house for dinner?”  
  
“I, um, yeah, of course,” he said as he looked through the paperwork for a house he had listed on Maple Street. “I can do Sunday.”  
  
“You sound busy.”  
  
“I’m sorry, Mama. I am.”  
  
“That’s good. I saw you sold another house.”  
  
“Yeah, yeah, I don’t know what it is, but the market is picking up.”  
  
“I should let you go,” she said. “We’ll see you Sunday.”  
  
“Yep, love you, Mama.”  
  
“And I love you, baby.”  
  
  


  
  
He pressed the button on the new Keurig he’d bought for his office and took the steaming cup to his desk.  
  
He had two open houses this weekend to plan and a new commercial property to list. He called the bakery to order cookies for the open houses and made notes on issues the home owners needed to address – litter boxes, laundry … common sense, people!  
  
He worked a bit on the commercial listing and sent an ad to the local newspaper and to the paper in Pikeville.  
  
He took a sip of coffee. Ugh, cold. Wait, lunchtime?  
  
  
  
“Jared? You are coming to dinner, aren’t you?”  
  
“Oh! Yes! I’m sorry. I totally lost track of time. I’m on my way!”  
  
  
  


  
  
“JayRod!”  
  
“Hey, Chad.” He couldn’t help smiling.  
  
“Drinks, Friday at Homer’s.”  
  
“I don’t know.”  
  
“I do. I know. I know you need some drinks.”  
  
“Chad.” His friend wasn’t necessarily wrong.  
  
“What else you got planned?”  
  
“I … I’m just tired. I’m working really hard.”  
  
“Yeah, yeah, all work and no play …”  
  
“I’ll think about it.”  
  
“There is no think; there is only do.”  
  
“That’s not how that …”  
  
“Friday. 7 o’clock. Homer’s. Be there.”  
  
  


  
  
“Great, right?!” Chad leaned in.  
  
“What?!” Jared yelled. There was some loud-ass country music blasting in the bar – some guy rapping about being laid back and swervin’ like George Jones. A haze of smoke already hung in the air.  
  
“It’s great seeing you, man! Haven’t seen you in months!” He slapped Jared on the shoulder.  
  
“Oh! Yeah, great!”  
  
  


  
  
He sat on the sofa with the curtains drawn. The light made his head throb. Although, to be honest, he didn’t open the curtains much these days.  
  
The sound was off on the TV. He watched cars drive in circles at Talladega … or was it Bristol? Whatever.  
  
No more evenings that turned to mornings with Chad and Mike. Too old for that shit.  
  
  


  
  
“Looks like you could use an assistant.”  
  
“Katie! Hey, you here to list that sweet…”  
  
“No, I’m here with a bill.” She dropped a manila envelope on the desk.  
  
“Damn, I am so sorry,” Jared said. He pulled the invoices from the envelope and dug into the draw of his desk for the check book. “I will write you a check right now.”  
  
“Okay.” She sat down in the chair across from him. “So, you’ve been doing well.”  
  
“Yeah, yeah, lots of listings and a few sales,” he said as he wrote out the check.  
  
“Good.” She looked around the tiny, cluttered office. “Got a guy?”  
  
“Um, no.” He glanced up. “I pretty much know everyone around here and …” He shrugged.  
  
“Yeah, that must be a problem.”  
  
“Yeah, I guess. I’m not really looking right now though.” He handed her the check.  
  
“Thanks.” She stood. “Maybe a little travel? Long weekend away?”  
  
“Yeah, I could use a vacation, but I’ve got open houses on weekends and … There just never seems to be time.”  
  
“You know what they say about all work and no play.”  
  
“Yep, I’ve heard that.”  
  
“See ya, Jared.”  
  
“See ya, Katie.”  
  
As Jared put the checkbook away, he noticed an envelope with the name Jensen written on the outside. He pulled it out of the drawer and found it contained almost eighty dollars.  
  
Blackberry cake.  
  
“Huh.”  
  


  
  
  


The truck crawled up the muddy road. The woods were misty. Water dripped from trees made black with rain. Few dead leaves clung to branches.  
  
He wasn’t sure why he was going back to the little blue cabin. He had no client. No listing. What was his excuse?  
  
_I see your eyes in my dreams._  
  
It made no sense, but he just couldn’t shake the feeling that meeting Jensen had changed his life.  
  
_You haunt me._  
  
It was crazy how his life had changed and yet … what had really changed?  
  
The first thing he noticed was that the hound wasn’t on the porch. There were no chickens in the yard. For a moment, he thought the cabin was truly abandoned, but, no, there were candles in the windows. Pentagrams and little dolls made of stick hung from the porch eave.  
  
Grabbing the paper sack from the passenger seat, he got out of the truck. The caw of a lone crow echoed through the woods.  
  
“Hullo!” he called, but the door didn’t open. There was no movement in the cabin so he unlatched the gate and let himself in. He walked up the soggy path. His footfalls sounded hollow on the porch floor. The screen door rattled on its hinges when he knocked.  
  
After a moment, the inner door opened. Jensen was wearing jeans and a flannel shirt. There were strands of silver in his hair.  
  
“Jensen?”  
  
“What are you doin’ here, Jared?” he asked. He folded his arms and leaned against the door jamb.  
  
“I brought you something.”  
  
Jensen eyed the paper sack. “Why? Someone want to buy my farm?”  
  
“No! I just thought … I just wanted to see you.”  
  
“Well then, come on.” Jensen pushed the screen door open.  
  
The cabin was cozy warm from the woodstove. The old hound lay curled beside it. The mutt wagged its tail at his feet.  
  
“Hey, Shep,” Jared said. He set the sack on the table and pulled out a six-pack of cider.  
  
“Pumpkin cider,” he said, “and kettle corn.”  
  
Jensen got a bottle opener.  
  
“Be careful…”  
  
The bottle spit and foamed when Jensen pried the cap off.  
  
“Sorry, bumpy road,” Jared said. He opened the bag of kettle corn and offered the open end to Jensen.  
  
Jensen took a handful and sat down at the table. He chewed thoughtfully.  
  
“You like it?” Jared sat down opposite him.  
  
Jensen nodded. “Yep.”  
  
Jared smiled. “How’s the cider?”  
  
Jensen took a swig. “I like it.”  
  
Jared smiled so wide it almost hurt. He couldn’t have explained why pleasing Jensen made him so happy.  
  
“So what’ve you been up to?” Jensen asked.  
  
Jared shrugged. “Working.”  
  
Jensen’s eyebrows rose. “And how’s that going?”  
  
“Good. Real good. I’m selling houses and businesses. Making money. It’s … good.”  
  
Jensen nodded. “Good.” He closed the bag of kettle corn. “I was just about to have supper.”  
  
“That’s what that great smell is, huh?”  
  
“Does that mean you’re hungry?” Jensen rose and went to the stove.  
  
“I could eat.”  
  
“I’ll bet.” Jensen pulled a skillet of cornbread from the oven and set it next to a pot on  
the stove.  
  
Jared admired his broad shoulders and sturdy bowed legs. Still, he wondered about the silver hairs that he was sure had not been there a few months ago.  
  
Jensen set a plate of cornbread wedges on the table and got a jar of strawberry preserves from the refrigerator.  
  
“Mm, cornbread,” Jared said.  
  
Jensen slapped his hand as he reached for a piece.  
  
“Patience.”  
  
Jensen spooned up two bowls of soup and set one before Jared. He put saucers out for the cornbread.  
  
The soup was thick with root vegetables, squash, and game. Although, seasoned well with herbs, it was still a little bland for his taste.  
  
“This is amazing,” he said.  
  
Jensen gave him an even look. “Thank you.” He raised his cider bottle in toast, and Jared clinked his. They ate in silence for a time.  
  
“So, have you bought yourself a house?” Jensen asked.  
  
“No.” Jared spread preserves thickly on to a wedge of cornbread. “I haven’t.”  
  
“I thought you wanted a house.”  
  
“I did. I do. I’ve just been so busy at work.”  
  
“I see. Sort of like the cobblers children not having shoes.”  
  
Jared sighed. “Yeah, I guess.”  
  
Jensen pushed his empty bowl away and leaned back. “So, what brought you up the mountain today?”  
  
Jared thought of the money he’d found in the envelope. “I just wanted to see you, I guess.”  
  
“Well, I’m flattered.” Jensen raised his bottle to his lips and drained it. He rose and began to clear the table.  
  
Jared picked at the label on his bottle as Jensen put the soup and remaining cider into the refrigerator.  
  
“You should go.”  
  
“We could have another drink,” Jared said.  
  
“It’s getting late, and you need to get down the mountain before dark.” He stood at the door.  
  
Jared rose. “Jensen.”  
  
“Do you know what day it is, Jared?”  
  
“Day?”  
  
Jensen smiled. “It’s Halloween. Go home.”  
  
But Jared hovered just inches from Jensen. He brushed the sliver strands from Jensen’s forehead. There were things he wanted to know but didn’t know how to ask.  
  
Jensen leaned up, offering his mouth. Jared kissed him with just a strong press of lips. Jensen’s biceps were firm under his hands, and Jensen’s lips parted for a moment before he pulled away. He opened the door.  
  
“Be safe,” he said.  
  
“Yeah,” Jared replied. He stepped onto the porch and heard the door shut behind him. “You too.”  
  


  
  


*****

  
  
  
Online shopping was easy. See something you like and click. It’s yours. He shook the box and tried to guess or remember what might be inside. He stacked it on top of the bureau with the others.  
  
  
  
“Jared, dude! Homer’s, eight o’clock on Friday. Be there.”  
  
  
  
“This is the McKenna house. It’s a classic Arts and Crafts home,” Jared led the young couple into the front hall. “As you can see, it’s all original wood trim, never been painted except the kitchen and bathroom. The floors are original oak as well.”  
  
“Oh, look at the bookcases,” the young woman, Molly of the ginger hair, said. Built-in bookcases flanked the fireplace. “And the tiles!” She stroked the dark green tiles that fronted the fireplace.  
  
“You’ll find more built-ins in the hallway, the bathroom, and at the foot of the stairs,” Jared said. “It is in remarkable condition too. The roof is just three years old, and a high-efficiency gas furnace was added just a few years ago.”  
  
“So what are the negatives?” the husband, Justin, asked. He stood in the dining room gazing up at the coffered ceiling.  
  
Jared sighed. “Well, not everyone appreciates vintage. Some want open floor plans and great rooms and whirlpool tubs.”  
  
“I love vintage!” Molly said.  
  
“Me too!” Jared said. “I’ve considered buying it myself.  
  
“No!” Molly said. “Don’t tell me we’re going to have a bidding war with our own realtor.”  
  
Jared chuckled. “Nah, it’s more house than I need.” But was it? Wasn’t this exactly what he’d dreamed of?  
  
  
  
“What the fuck, man? We missed you on Friday. Hey, you okay?”  
  
  
  
The sheets were wrapped around his legs, and they just became more twisted when he rolled over.  
  
He stared at the ceiling.  
  
He should get up.  
  
He should wash the bedding.  
  
He rolled back over and pulled the pillow over his head.  
  
  
  
“Honey, it’s Mama. You missed dinner on Sunday. Call me.”  
  
  
  
There was the envelope marked Jensen. He took the remaining cash from it and placed it in his wallet.  
  
  
  
“Jared, honey, I’m worried. Please call.”  
  
  
  
He tore through the boxes on the bureau until he found the one with the box of Godiva chocolates. Then, he left them on the kitchen table and went to watch the race with a beer in his hand.  
  
  
  
Feeling as though he’d drank a couple espressos, he paced his apartment. He had to move, had to get out. There was somewhere he needed to be. He should have bought a house. He could have a dog and more room to pace.  
  
  


  
  
  
The sky was heavy with clouds and there was a damp chill in the air as he headed up the mountain. He’d awakened to a dusting of snow on the ground.  
  
The woods were a pen and ink drawing.  
  
He was met by silence when he got out of his truck in front of Jensen’s cabin. The cawing of a crow startled him. It settled on the fence beside the cemetery, and was joined by another and another. Soon, the fence and a nearby redbud tree were filled with them.  
  
“Hello,” he said and they quieted.  
  
Again, there were candles in the windows and a bough of evergreen hung above the door.  
  
As he climbed the steps, the door opened. A silver-haired man wrapped in a plaid blanket stood on the opposite side of the screen door.  
  
Jared squinted. “Jensen?”  
  
“Go home, Jared. Come back in the spring.”  
  
“I don’t understand.”  
  
“Go home.”  
  
“No!” Jared pulled on the screen door, but Jensen held it closed from the inside.  
  
“It isn’t up to you.” Jensen’s voice was deeper as were the lines around his eyes.  
  
“But I brought you a gift.”  
  
Jensen smiled. “I’m not obligated to accept your gift.”  
  
“Please, Jensen, I have to talk to you. My life is a mess.”  
  
“I can’t fix your life.”  
  
“Please, you’re the only one I can talk to.”  
  
“Why? You have family and friends.”  
  
“I don’t know.” Jared held up the sack. “Please, you’re letting all the heat out. We can have a drink and talk.”  
  
Jensen turned away and walked deeper into the cabin.  
  
Jared opened the screen door and shut the inner door to keep out the cold.  
  
“Take off your shoes,” Jensen said from the kitchen.  
  
Jared toed off his shoes and shucked his jacket, which he hung on a coat hook near the door. He set the sack on drainboard of the sink.  
  
“I brought you chocolate. Godiva,” he said as he drew the box from the sack. “And bourbon. Blanton’s.”  
  
“How thoughtful,” Jensen said. He didn’t sound pleased, but he was already selecting a chocolate.  
  
Jared took two jelly jars down from a shelf over the sink and poured them each a drink.  
  
“Let’s go sit by the stove,” Jensen said. He took the box of chocolates with him.   
  
Jared settled himself in one of the chairs and stretched his legs out in front of him. The hound’s bed was beside him and he reached down to rub the dog’s head.  
  
“What’s this one’s name?” he asked.  
  
“That’s Blossom,” Jensen said. “She’s an old crone, but she’s got a soft life.”  
  
Shep curled up on the rug at Jensen’s feet.  
  
“Where’s your cat?”  
  
“Sturgill? He’s over on the bed. There’s a couple more somewhere outside. They’ll come in before bedtime.”  
  
Jared nodded. He had felt desperate to talk to Jensen, but now, he just wanted to sit and sip bourbon. Jensen didn’t press him.  
  
“Do you ever get lonely up here by yourself?”  
  
“I’m not really alone,” Jensen said. “I’ve got all the animals and the occasional visitor.” He smiled.  
  
“I get lonely,” Jared said. The words were a surprise to him, but he felt they were true.  
  
“You wanted money and a house,” Jensen said. “You were making money last time we talked. Did you get a house?”  
  
Jared shook his head. “No, and that’s funny because the perfect house came on the market.”  
  
“Why didn’t you buy it?”  
  
“I don’t know,” Jared admitted. “I told myself that it was more room than I needed, but people usually buy for the future, right? Like, anticipating …”  
  
“A partner? A family?”  
  
“Yeah, I guess so.” Jared stared into the empty glass.  
  
Jensen rose and took it from him. He poured them each another glass and handed Jared’s glass back to him.  
  
“I shouldn’t.” Jared leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. “I should go.” But he didn’t get up.  
  
“You should stay,” Jensen said. “It’s gotten dark out and the road is treacherous.” Jensen stood over him and held out his hand. Jared took it and stood. Jensen pulled him close. “You can stay. Tonight.”  
  
Jared pulled him in tight and kissed his temple. “You smell so good.”  
  
Jensen chuckled and led him to the bed, peeling off his flannel and urging Jared to undress. Sturgill leapt down as Jensen turned the covers back. He pulled Jared down beside him.  
  
Jared couldn’t explain how right it felt to hold Jensen in his arms. It felt familiar. He had laid with other men, but it didn’t feel like that. It felt and smelled and tasted like he had been here with Jensen before.  
  
Jensen was a revelation – every kiss and touch, the way he moved and moaned, the way he surrendered while being in complete control.  
  
The old bed was small for two men their size, but Jared didn’t mind Jensen falling asleep wrapped around him. He hadn’t felt so comfortable, so content in ages.  
  
  


  
  
Jared awoke to the smell of coffee. Jensen was waving the cup near his face. Jared grinned, took the cup, and reached for Jensen.  
  
“I’ve got to take the biscuits out of the oven.” Jensen evaded his grasp and went back to the kitchen.  
  
The woodstove kept the cabin plenty warm. A trio of cats – a calico and a tortoise shell had joined Sturgill – were stretched out on the rug nearby.  
  
Jared took a drink of coffee and turned the covers back. Setting the coffee aside, he pulled on his clothes. Jensen was wearing plaid flannel pajama bottoms and gray henley. Jared walked up behind Jensen, who was frying eggs, and kissed the nape of his neck.  
  
“How do you like your eggs?” hJensen asked.  
  
“Over easy.”  
  
“That sounds about right.”  
  
“Hey now!” Jared laughed.  
  
Jensen scooped three eggs onto a plate and handed it to Jared.  
  
“There’s pepper on the table.”  
  
Biscuits were piled in a dish alongside a butter dish and jar of sorghum.  
  
“There’s jam if you prefer.”  
  
“No! I love sorghum.” There was nothing quite like the sweet-sour taste of the thick, dark syrup. Jared scooped a lump of butter onto his plate and mixed a good dollop of sorghum into it. He spread the concoction on half of a hot biscuit. The biscuit was melt-in-your-mouth tender.  
  
“Mmmm!”  
  
Jensen grinned. “You do like your food, don’t you?”  
  
“Yep.” Jared laughed. “Always have.”  
  
Not through lack of trying, Jared and Jensen did not eat all the biscuits. Jensen wrapped the remaining ones up in wax paper and set them on the stove.  
  
Jared dried dishes as Jensen washed up. They worked together with little said. It was comfortable, but Jared knew that he was going to have to leave soon.  
  
“This has been great,” he said as he hung the dishtowel from a hook by the sink. He sat down in a kitchen chair to put his shoes on.  
  
Jensen nodded. “Yeah.”  
  
Jared thought he sounded sad. “Maybe, next weekend …”  
  
Jensen put his fingertips to Jared’s lips. “No.”  
  
Jared rose and ran his fingers through Jensen’s silver hair. “I don’t understand.”  
  
Jensen took Jared’s hand and kissed his knuckles “Shhhh.” Jensen closed his eyes.  
  
“When I first met you, I’d have sworn you were younger than me.”  
  
Jensen nuzzled his hand like a cat.  
  
“How can you age that way? Will it stop?” His voice shook. “What are you?”  
  
Jensen looked up. “I’m perennial.”  
  
“I don’t understand.”  
  
“Come back in the spring.” He handed Jared his jacket.  
  
“No, I don’t want to leave you. Not like this.”  
  
“But you must.” Jensen stepped away from him.  
  
“Jensen, please …” But he found himself on the porch.  
  
“Spring isn’t so far away,” Jensen said before shutting the door.

  
  
  
*****  
  


  
  
Jared cried. That much he remembered, not at first, but in dreams. He drove down the winding mountain road with hot tears cooling on his cheeks. Fat snowflakes drifted from the sky. Spring seemed very far away.  
  
  


  
  
The Bears were playing Green Bay at Soldiers Field. It was last quarter. Bears were down by seven. The tears came. Sudden and harsh. He sobbed as he had when his dog was killed by a car when he was ten.   
  
He was sure for a good two hours that Jensen had died. That was the only explanation for his grief. He talked himself out of it. He wasn’t psychic after all. He had to get out of the apartment. He went for a walk to shake off the feeling.  
  
That was perhaps the worst but not last crying jag.  
  
He found it more and more difficult to stay in. He tried to throw himself back into life, but never knowing when the tears would come made him nervous.  
  
His mother caught him crying in the laundry room one Sunday.  
  
“Honey, what is it?” she asked.  
  
He swiped at his eyes and shook his head. “Nothing.”  
  
“Now, Jared, you don’t cry over nothing.”  
  
“No, honestly, Mama, I don’t know. I just … have these spells. I’ll be fine in just a minute.” It wasn’t a lie. He couldn’t think of thing that would make him cry that way.  
  
She frowned. “Maybe you should talk to someone, honey.”  
  
“Yeah,” he said. “Maybe.”  
  
  


  
  
In dreams he saw smiling green eyes. Pale freckled skin. He tasted lips redolent of bourbon. Seeking hands.  
  
He’d awake with yearning like he’d never known and that he couldn’t name.  
  
  


  
  
“So what’s his name?” Chad asked.  
  
“What? Who?” Jared asked.  
  
Chad rolled his eyes. “Come on! You are obviously thinking of someone, and it ain’t your mama.”  
  
“Shut up.” Jared took a drink of beer. He’d usually give Chad a hard time about now, but he didn’t have it in him. “’scuse me.” He got up and headed for the restroom. He could feel it coming. He shut himself in a stall and cried.  
  
  


  
  
  
And then one day, the sun shone, birds sang, and green shoots pushed up through the soil.  
  
There were merely buds on the trees of the woods, but forest floor had awakened in green.  
  
On the passenger seat beside him was a cardboard box with holes cut in the sides. The incessant sound of cheeping accompanied his drive.  
  
He stopped outside Jensen’s gate and lifted the box carefully in his arms as he got out.  
  
The boy on the porch couldn’t have been more than fourteen.  
  
“Jared! I’ve been waiting all morning!” he called and rushed to the gate where bright blue morning glories bloomed. He unlatched it and swung it open. “What have you brought me?”  
  
Jared held out the box so Jensen could open the flaps on top. The boy’s eyes lit up at the sight of the fluffy yellow chicks. He took the box from Jared and carried it to where his hens were scratching and pecking at the ground.  
  
He knelt and set the box on the ground. He then tipped it slowly up and the chicks rolled out onto the ground. They soon found their feet and began searching for food.  
  
Jensen grinned at Jared. “They are wonderful.”  
  
“They’re worthy?” Jared asked.  
  
Jensen laughed. “Yes.”  
  
They watched the hens and chicks for a few moments.  
  
“All right, ladies, keep an eye on them,” Jensen said. He rose and went to Jared. “Thank you.”  
  
“You’re welcome. Chicks seemed like a good Spring gift.”  
  
“A fine gift,” Jensen said. His cheeks were smooth with barely a hint of a beard. His eyes were unlined and his lips plump.  
  
Jared swallowed the lump in his throat. “You have a lot to explain, you know.”  
  
“Yes.” Jensen looked quite serious. “I suppose I do. I told you I would, didn’t I?”  
  
“You did.”  
  
Jensen opened the gate. “Come on, then.”  
  
He went out the gate and rounded Jared’s truck. Jared followed him to the culvert. They began to follow the stream uphill, climbing steadily along the rocky creek bed. After a quarter of a mile or so, they came to a rock wall from which the water emerged.  
  
“Anyone who drinks from this spring will age with the seasons but revive in the Spring when they drink again.” Jensen knelt beside the spring.  
  
If Jared had not seen Jensen age and return to being a boy himself, he would have laughed.  
  
“So it makes you … perennial.” He knelt and trailed his fingers in the chilly water.  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“So you first drank from the spring how long ago?”  
  
“Not me,” Jensen said. “I am not of a human mother born. I am the spirit of this spring.”  
  
Things suddenly slotted together. “You’re fae?” His great-granny had told him of the fae when he was a boy -- how they distort time and memory, of their aversion to salt, and their fondness for gifts. “Holy shit. No, this is crazy. Fairy tales aren’t real.”  
  
Jensen placed his fingertips on Jared’s forehead, and Jared saw. He saw it all -- all the living things of the woods from the mushrooms and snails, the fiddlehead ferns and bluebells, the copperhead snakes on the forest floor to white tail deer and rabbits, the black bear and elk in the brush, to the blue jays and crows, hawks and buzzards in the towering trees. All of it was preternaturally clear and bathed in a brilliant blue-green light. Of course, there were no electric lines here, no LP gas or public utilities of any kind, only the old road.  
  
“How does your refrigerator work?” he blurted out.  
  
Jensen laughed. “I make it work.”  
  
Jared shook his head. “What about the Ackles?”  
  
“They were just humans who lived here a long time ago.”  
  
“Just humans. What am I then?” Jared’s hands curled into fists, and he rose to his full height. “Why should I trust you now? You fucked with me! You made me forget you. I thought I was going crazy!”  
  
Jensen grabbed Jared’s pant leg. “I tried to help you! You wanted money, and I helped you make money. You wanted a house, and I tried …” Jensen’s big eyes beseeched him to understand. “I didn’t realize until the last time you were here that those weren’t the things you wanted. That’s why I told you to come back.”  
  
“Why couldn’t you have told me the truth then? When you knew that what I wanted was you?” Jared shook his head. “No, I have to think about this.” He turned away and started back down the hill.  
  
“And I want you! That’s why I’m showing you the spring.”  
  
He stopped and looked back. “No, it doesn’t make sense. That water runs down the mountain and into Big Bend Creek and then the river. Why wouldn’t everyone be perennial?”  
  
“You have to drink from the source.” Jensen sighed. “And … do you know what day it is?”  
  
“It’s Saturday.”  
  
“It’s the vernal equinox. It’s Spring.”  
  
“So if I’m going to drink…”  
  
“It has to be today.”  
  


*****

  
  
  


There was more laughter in the woods that Spring. Boys’ laughter rang out across the hillside.  
  
They planted seeds and gathered eggs.  
  
They left gifts for the crows, and the crows were pleased.  
  
Soft rain fell, the sun shone down, and the garden flourished.  
  
“Will they miss me?” the taller boy asked as they tended the garden. His brows were drawn down as he thought of his family, of Chad and Mike, even Katie.  
  
“No, they don’t remember you,” his best friend and love replied.  
  
They worked quietly for moment.  
  
“That’s good. I wouldn’t want them to be sad.”  
  
“No,” the fairy said as he picked lettuce. _And I wouldn’t want them to come looking for you._ “It’s for the best.”  
  
The truck had been driven farther up the road and pushed into a sink hole. The little farm looked much as it had almost a year earlier when a young real estate agent came with an offer.  
  
The boy brought his pail to the fairy. It was nearly full of red berries.  
  
“Still bringing me gifts?” The sun caught in his green eyes, and Jared’s heart swooned. “We’ll have strawberry shortcake at dinner.”  
  
They ate well.  
  
They played like children.  
  
They worked like men.  
  
They loved.  
  
And the mountain was content.

-30-

  
  
Reccs:  
Outsiders; hulu series  
Hellier; paranormal series on YouTube and Amazon Prime  
Old Gods of Appalachia; folklore podcast, YouTube and other sources


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